


Trust Unbroken

by Mertiya



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Being Walked In On, Celebrimbor in Gondolin, Celebrimbor's Life is NOT a tragedy psych, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Explicit Consent, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mairon Makes Surprisingly Good Life Choices For Once, Mairon in Gondolin, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Some minor self-hate issues feat. Maeglin, Threesome - M/M/M, Tyelpe's dick too bomb for Annatar to stick out the evil plans, with a dash of subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26162110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: Maeglin walks in on a tryst between Annatar and Celebrimbor.  They ask him to join. (Of course they do.)
Relationships: Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Annatar/Celebrimbor/Maeglin, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Maeglin | Lómion, Maeglin | Lómion/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 32
Kudos: 126





	Trust Unbroken

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Build Up A New Us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806742) by [Harp_of_Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harp_of_Gold/pseuds/Harp_of_Gold). 



> okay so I've just written too many sads lately so here is the recompense where everything is happy no one dies and various people actually make non-terrible decisions
> 
> also, it's a threesome, have fun
> 
> title from the lay of leithian
> 
> EDIT: god I'm an idiot, I meant to explicitly call out Harp_of_Gold's AMAZING interactions between Maeglin, Tyelpe, and Mairon as being the inspiration for this ship and I completely forgot. That has now been rectified.

Maeglin hated himself. This was not a particularly new development, but it was particularly intense today. Why, he thought to himself, why was it that he could still _see_ Idril, see her perfect happiness with her husband and her tiny son, and _still want her?_ He was horrible. He hated it. He told himself over and over again to _stop_ , but it never seemed to help. His heart still twisted with that old, awful desire whenever he saw her, no matter the circumstances. 

Punished. He needed to be punished.

He shook his head, one hand tracing over the ridged scars on the inside of his wrists. He’d promised Celebrimbor that he would try not to do that anymore, after the incident the year before when he’d forgotten to lock the forge and the other elf had walked in on him covered in blood and crying. He’d been so _concerned_. Maeglin wasn’t used to such concern being directed at himself. It made him think of his mother when he was tiny, and that awful look of terror in his friend’s eyes had pushed him to stammer out the damn promise. He raked his nails down the inside of his wrist, but he could barely feel it. No, he shouldn’t do that either. Stupid, stupid. He’d go to the forge and try to hit something with a hammer until he was too tired to think. Maybe that would help.

The door was shut, which was unusual, but it was past the time of day when most folk did their work, so Maeglin supposed the last person out must have closed it. It was _more_ surprising to find it locked, but Maeglin was one of the few people with a key, so he unlocked it without thinking much more about it, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

The light inside the forge was dim, the fire banked but still flickering. Maeglin looked about in some confusion, and then heard a soft gasp and a murmur in a voice that sounded very familiar. “Tyelpe?” he called out.

There was another gasp, decidedly less soft, coming from the back of the forge. Maeglin walked toward it, then stopped as he reached it and felt the back of his neck flare up in impossible embarrassment. There was a bed in the back here, a small cot barely deserving of the name, for people who had stayed too late working and needed a place to sleep. It was definitely not large enough for two people, unless they were physically occupying the same space. The two people currently on it were _very_ physically occupying the same space.

_Oh no I’m so sorry,_ Maeglin tried to say, but all that came out was a squeak. Celebrimbor’s guilty face stared at him from his half-upright position, and he didn’t say anything at all, just moving his mouth in helpless gulping motions, rather like a fish. The other occupant of the bed, though, smiled in what was possibly amusement, pushed curls of silver hair out of his eyes, and said, “Good evening, Maeglin,” with what Maeglin felt was a ridiculous amount of poise coming from someone who had Celebrimbor literally inside him.

“I thought I locked the door,” Celebrimbor managed helplessly.

“You did,” Maeglin responded automatically. “I didn’t…realize…I…”

He was hard. Oh, no, oh, _no_ , he was _awful_ , he had just been thinking about Idril, and now he had accidentally walked in on—Celebrimbor—and the—and the—he hadn’t even realized that the Emissary of the Valar was interested in such things—and now he was hard and—he needed to leave. Right. He told his legs very severely that they needed to leave, and they—promptly ignored him.

Annatar rolled up on one elbow and ran his fingers down Celebrimbor’s shoulder; Maeglin shivered in helpless appreciation. “Darling Tyelpe, I don’t think he _minds_. Do you mind?”

Tyelpe’s face went a dusky rose. It was beautiful, Maeglin thought helplessly. _Tyelpe_ was beautiful. He, Maeglin, was a horrible person. “I—” he got out.

“I don’t mind.” Celebrimbor was looking down at the floor, and Maeglin thought he must have misheard him. He tried to take his eyes away from the inky-black hair spilling across the lithe, muscled shoulders, and discovered that he absolutely couldn’t.

“What?” he said breathlessly, and then he watched as Annatar very deliberately ran a slim, long-fingered hand down Celebrimbor’s chest and thigh.

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” Celebrimbor said, and he gave Maeglin one of his most impossibly sweet, heartbreaking smiles.

~

The bed in the forge really wasn’t cut out for three people, and after the shock of cold water that had been Maeglin’s entrance, Celebrimbor wasn’t certain he would be able to perform under the conditions anyway, so the three of them adjourned to Annatar’s chambers instead. 

“Are you really sure?” Maeglin whispered, halting in the hallway outside, his dark eyes fearful.

Celebrimbor took his hand. “We wouldn’t have asked you if we weren’t sure,” he said. He turned to Annatar, who was lounging against the wall. Somehow, he had already managed to get himself half out of his robes again. “Kiss him,” he told Annatar.

“With pleasure,” the Maia said sweetly, and he took Maeglin’s hand and drew him against the wall, one hand caressing his cheek and the other slipping down his back. Maeglin gasped harshly and then deepened the kiss, grabbing Annatar’s thighs to lift him and press him back into the wall. Celebrimbor swallowed, his cock twitching, as he watched them. He went over and slid his own hands onto Maeglin’s waist, hoping Maeglin couldn’t tell quite how much they were trembling.

“Maeglin,” he murmured. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.”

Maeglin whined, his hips hitching against Annatar. “You can’t have,” he said breathlessly.

“I may be a coward, but I’m not a liar.” Celebrimbor kissed his throat gently. “You’re beautiful, Maeglin, and you’re my friend, and I trust you.”

A horrible little sound bubbled out of Maeglin’s throat. “No—you _shouldn’t_ —I’m not. I’m not any of those things.”

“You’re not my friend?” Celebrimbor asked lightly. He reached forward to twine one hand in Annatar’s.

“No—I mean yes, we are friends, but—”

“You are certainly beautiful,” Annatar put in, his large, luminous eyes opening. He kissed Maeglin’s cheek and his throat, then stretched forward to catch Celebrimbor’s lips as well. “As for trustworthy, well, you will never convince Celebrimbor not to trust. He thinks trust comes first before the earning of it, don’t you, dear?”

“No one can learn to be trustworthy if no one trusts them,” Celebrimbor retorted, choosing to ignore the light mockery underlying Annatar’s words. “But this is getting awfully philosophical, and I’d frankly rather head to the bedroom for now. If you’re both all right with that.”

“Ah— _ahhhh_ —” Maeglin moaned loudly, and Celebrimbor saw that Annatar was dragging his teeth across the soft flesh of Maeglin’s throat. “Yes— _please_ —oh just don’t stop—”

“Good,” Annatar crooned, and Maeglin sobbed. Celebrimbor took both their hands and pulled them through the waiting door into Annatar’s chambers. 

They tumbled together onto Annatar’s fortunately quite large bed, stripping off their clothes as they went. There were hands everywhere, all over Celebrimbor, and he had both his hands roaming excitedly across both the others as well. He touched Maeglin’s fluffy hair and Annatar’s hair like thin silver wire, the muscles in Maeglin’s shoulders and the trembling slim heat of Annatar’s thighs. There was a mouth on his stomach, trailing kisses, and he had his mouth devouring Maeglin’s, tasting smoke and ash and sweat, their tongues tangling together, the air vibrating with their moans.

“How—how are we going to—” Maeglin’s voice was shaking and rough and when he pulled back, Celebrimbor saw that the pupils of his eyes were blown wide and dark, his lips flushed and swollen. Sweat gleamed along his forehead.

“I have no idea,” Celebrimbor laughed. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” They would figure it out. 

“I have an idea,” murmured Annatar, his head popping up from behind Maeglin’s shoulder. “Or perhaps you could call it a fantasy. But I would _very_ much like for it to come true.” As always, he thrummed with hidden heat, like a closed oven gleaming red. Lines of red limned his pallid hair. Maeglin bit his lip so beautifully that Celebrimbor had to trace a finger across the plush bottom. “Tell us,” Maeglin got out hoarsely between soft noises of arousal.

“I want both of you inside me,” Annatar whispered huskily, and Celebrimbor heard a frankly embarrassing noise drop from his lips at the thought. His cock twitched against Maeglin’s leg.

“Is that—is that even _possible_?” Maeglin got out in a hushed voice.

“For an Elf, probably. For a Maia, certainly,” Annatar returned, sounding as coolly amused as ever. Celebrimbor wanted to hold him down and fuck him until that composure turned into whining incomprehension. He wanted to watch him fall apart. He wanted to fall apart _with_ him.

“Then we’ll have to change positions,” he said determinedly. “Annatar, get between us. Is there something we can use to—ah—”

“There’s a pot of oil in the bedside drawer.”

“Maeglin, can you get it?” Maeglin gave a soft whimper and did as Celebrimbor asked, and Annatar took the opportunity to slide into his lap and kiss him deeply. This thing between them was so new and untried, but Celebrimbor’s feelings already ran deep. They had spent a whole afternoon laughing together and arguing over a point of metallurgy and then somehow ended up in bed together. Twice. The mysterious Emissary of the Valar did not seem quite so distant and untouchable, now. Celebrimbor laughed in Annatar’s mouth, and then caught his hands in the Maia’s hair and dragged his head back so he could kiss his throat while Annatar moaned loudly.

“Here.” Maeglin reappeared with the oil, and Annatar leaned back against him. 

“Fingers inside me, please,” he said immediately. 

“Which of us?” Maeglin gulped.

“ _Both_ ,” Annatar returned darkly, and Celebrimbor moaned as heat spiked in his belly.

“Get up on your knees, then,” he told Annatar, and the Maia complied immediately. Sweat already slicked his thighs. Celebrimbor coated his fingers with oil, and he slipped one easily up and inside Annatar, where he was quickly joined by Maeglin, who moved his finger in and out somewhat more rapidly than Celebrimbor thought he would have done. Over Annatar’s shoulder, his eyes were watching both of them intensely.

“Like that— _just_ like that—” Annatar’s breathing was starting to turn ragged, and Celebrimbor twisted a finger and crooked it. Annatar whimpered. It was slow, but he was starting to come undone at last, patches of red beginning to form on his chest and cheeks. It was strange, feeling Maeglin’s finger inside Annatar’s slick heat, brushing against his own. “More— _more_ —please—” Annatar begged. Maeglin grinned at Celebrimbor.

“How much more, how fast?” he asked, and Celebrimbor’s heart swelled at seeing the _happiness_ forming on his face. Maeglin so rarely looked happy, and it was such a good look for him.

“Anything. I can take it,” Annatar gasped, writhing slightly.

“ _Good_ ,” Maeglin said darkly, and he surged up onto his own knees, his hands spreading Annatar’s thighs apart. Celebrimbor gasped and bit down on his knuckle as he watched Maeglin penetrate Annatar, sure and swift. One hand wandered slowly down his inner thigh as Maeglin bent Annatar forward and thrust into him, desperate and fast-paced.

“Tyelpe,” Annatar gasped, reaching out a hand. “Need you, too.”

“Yes,” Maeglin agreed, looking up. “Yes, _yes_.”

“You’re so beautiful together,” Celebrimbor whispered, but he reached out with a hand to steady Annatar and pull them both closer to him. “Here, I need—” He grabbed a few pillows and arranged them so that he could lie back.

“Just a moment, darkling,” Annatar said to Maeglin, who blinked in confusion.

“‘Darkling’?”

“You’re small and dark and darling,” Annatar said, twisting around to press a kiss to his cheek. “But this will be simpler if you let me mount Tyelpe and then get back inside me.”

“Ah—I—all right.” Maeglin pulled out of him and knelt on his heels, his cock slick and beautiful, just like the rest of him. Celebrimbor wanted it in his mouth—perhaps another time. Annatar straddled Celebrimbor, his shining hair falling about his face. 

“Back here again, I see,” he smiled, rubbing his thigh along Celebrimbor’s erection so that Celebrimbor swore and clenched his fists in the sheets. Then he took Celebrimbor in hand and guided him to his already slick and loosened entrance. 

“ _Ah—Annatar—dear one—_ ” Celebrimbor gasped as Annatar sank down. Annatar moaned in answer, his hands twisting in Celebrimbor’s waist-length hair. He settled himself carefully, his thighs pressing against Celebrimbor’s sides, his cock trapped between them as he leaned forward, panting. 

“All right,” he said tightly. “Maeglin—please—”

Maeglin made a strangled sound from behind him. “I—I c-can? I really can?” he asked hesitantly. Then, as Annatar made an impatient, needy sound, “Tyelpe?”

“Of course,” Celebrimbor breathed. “Please. I want to feel you too.”

There was a heartbeat of pause, and then he felt Maeglin settling at Annatar’s back, and _then_ he was groaning again, because he could feel the silky heat of Maeglin’s cock pressing against his own. “Ah— _ahhh_ —” Maeglin sobbed. “You feel—you both—you feel so _good_ —Annatar— _Tyelpe_ —”

“Fuck,” Annatar gasped. “ _Yes_ , yes, fill me up, Maeglin—” Tingling, delicious pain swept through Tyelpe’s scalp as Annatar’s hands clutched at his hair, and his hips twitched. Annatar squealed and sobbed, and Maeglin made a throaty, desperate noise as well. 

“I can feel you both,” Celebrimbor said, awed. “This is— _Valar_ —I’ve never felt anything like this—”

Annatar’s smile threatened to become a smirk. “Wait till we start moving,” he said breathlessly.

~

Annatar had not been this full in centuries—in too long. And he did not particularly want to think about that, not when he could be thinking about the pleasure he was taking here. His little drama had worked to remarkable perfection. The two greatest smiths in the city lay in the palm of his hand. And they were so beautiful, he thought distractedly, pressing kisses down Tyelpe’s jaw. 

“Come on,” he purred, rolling his hips gently. “ _Fuck_ me, both of you.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Maeglin chanted in pure pleasure from behind him. To his surprise, it was Celebrimbor who gave him a mischievous grin. 

“Are you sure this is what you want, great Emissary of the Valar? For two Elves to hold you down and fuck you till you’re screaming?” Annatar actually failed to find words to respond to that, in his sudden, desperate effort not to just climax immediately onto Tyelpe’s stomach. “Oh, look,” Tyelpe said, his fingers running along the curve of Annatar’s jaw, “Maeglin, look, we’ve rendered him speechless.”

Annatar whimpered as Maeglin stilled inside him as well, then raked his nails down the front of Annatar’s thighs. “He’s beautiful like this,” Maeglin said hoarsely. “You both are. Valar, can you imagine—T-Tyelpe—what he would look like with a cock in his mouth too? It would stop him from incessantly telling me that I’m annealing at the wrong temperature.”

“It wasn’t _incessant_!” Annatar shot back without thinking, then stilled. He hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to—to _banter_ ; he was supposed to be in control here, even if the other two hadn’t realized it. “And you were,” he added, despite the fact that he shouldn’t even have said the first. Maeglin bit him, hard, on the shoulder, and he whined and moaned and moved his hips, trying to impale himself on both those lovely cocks.

“ _Mmmkhhg,_ ” Maeglin moaned, and Tyelpe’s eyes fluttered shut as he gasped, but then his hands landed on Annatar’s buttocks, grabbing him and forcibly holding him still.

“Why stop?” Maeglin said pitifully; his cock twitched inside Annatar, and Annatar gasped at the sensation, too much, too full, but still not enough at the same time.

“Because,” Tyelpe murmured, leaning forward so that they could both hear him clearly, though his voice was quiet. “I want to hear him beg. Don’t you, Maeglin?”

“Oh, _Eru_ ,” Maeglin whispered. “Oh, I do.”

Annatar’s face and ears burned. It was too much, it was so much. He shouldn’t be debasing himself for an Elf—but for the sake of his plan, he certainly could. It was just…he wasn’t so certain it _was_ for the sake of the plan anymore. He was growing to enjoy the arguments he was having with the two of them in the forge. He was growing to enjoy their company a great deal. He was growing into a constant feeling of wanting to murder everyone who gave Maeglin that particularly distrustful look, everyone who stepped sideways around him or crossed the street to avoid him. And Tyelpe— _Tyelpe_ —Tyelpe. What could you _do_ with someone who immediately trusted you, as a matter of principle? There was no art to deceiving him. It wasn’t a challenge. It just felt— _wrong_. 

“Annatar?” Tyelpe’s voice, the seductiveness gone from it and replaced with an impossibly bottomless measure of true concern. “Are you all right? If you don’t like this—”

“No, it’s not that,” Annatar protested before he could think. “It’s—it’s—” _You are the lieutenant of Angband!_ a voice screamed in his head. _You are here to infiltrate Gondolin and orchestrate its fall!_ All so he could go back to the arms of someone who no longer even saw him.

He looked down, breathing hard. “I simply needed a moment,” he said, letting the seductive note drop back into his voice before he looked up. “Please,” he whispered, opening his eyes wide and innocent. “Please fuck me. Both of you. Please fill me up until—until—” _what are you saying what are you saying stop stop stop_ “—until I can’t think of anyone else but you.”

“If that’s what you want, I am all for it,” Maeglin said earnestly in his ear. “Come on, Tyelpe, you heard him.”

“Oh, I did.” Tyelpe gave him a smile that was—there was no other word for it— _devastating—_ and then he and Maeglin both began to move. 

It was so much. It was too much. Annatar moaned and pressed his face into Tyelpe’s chest. He twisted a hand in Tyelpe’s silken hair, then reached back and caught a handful of Maeglin’s, as well. Maeglin, panting and grunting as he thrust, put his mouth against Annatar’s throat and began to suck. Annatar was whining and shaking, his legs unable to support him anymore. He was only being held up by the two Elves using him, filling him, _fucking_ him— _oh_ , he wasn’t going to be able to stand straight tomorrow—possibly at all—

“Tyelpe—Maeglin— _aaaaaahhhh_ —please— _please_ —” He was sobbing and swearing and coming all across Tyelpe’s front, and Tyelpe’s hand was cupped around his face. Maeglin was grunting and gasping and the two of them were still fucking him, and Annatar was already hardening again and he _didn’t want this to ever end—_

It felt so good—it was far, far too much; his legs hurt, and his cock ached; and his insides were so sensitive every thrust of the other two felt bruising in its intensity—but it felt _so good_. Maeglin was moaning his name and Tyelpe’s in alternation, and Tyelpe was whispering a stream of soft encouragement to both of them— _that’s it, love; Maeglin, you feel so good against me; Annatar, you’re doing so well, taking us both like this; you’re so warm and tight and good; you’re both so beautiful; how did I get so lucky_ —and that hurt too, somehow. It felt like something deep inside Annatar’s chest was cracking open, and he wailed and sobbed as he rutted against Tyelpe’s front.

“I’m close,” Maeglin moaned in his ear. “I’m so—I’m so— _Annatar_ —”

“Come inside me,” Annatar begged. “Both of you. Please. I need it.”

Tyelpe made a desperate, bitten-off choking noise, and Maeglin’s arms tightened viciously around Annatar, and then he felt the sudden rush of heat as they both spilled inside him, Tyelpe just a half-second after, with the twitch of Maeglin’s tightening cock to urge him on. 

Maeglin stayed like that, breathing hard, his cock softening inside Annatar, and Annatar felt the slickness of his seed starting to trickle down his leg, and _ohhhh_ —the thought of both their seed inside him brought him right over the edge again, cursing and gasping and whining as he added to the sticky mess on Tyelpe’s front.

Tyelpe’s gentle hands helped both of them down, and Annatar curled up against him, then reached out and pulled Maeglin up against Annatar’s back. He was trembling. They were both trembling. Only Tyelpe—most unfairly—wasn’t trembling.

“That was—” Maeglin gasped. “I mean I’ve never—”

Tyelpe’s hand snaked across Annatar and grabbed at Maeglin’s shoulder. “Kiss me, please,” he demanded, and Maeglin did, leaning over Annatar to give Tyelpe a very thorough kiss indeed. They were lovely together, Annatar thought hazily. And he was _theirs_. He could still feel the marks of them on him— _in_ him. 

“Mmmmmlove you,” he mumbled into Tyelpe’s neck, his arm looped around Maeglin’s waist, and both of them froze.

“Did he just—” Maeglin asked.

“Meant both of you,” Annatar clarified.

“Oh, beloved.” Tyelpe combed a hand through his hair. “I love you, too.”

“I don’t—I mean,” Maeglin stammered.

“Don’t say anything,” Annatar told him, looking up at his shocked, nervous expression. “You don’t have to say anything. Just stay.”

There was a pause, and Tyelpe’s warm breath on his ear. He’d asked for the same thing from Annatar the night before, and Annatar _had_ stayed, but—he’d woken and slipped out before dawn. He couldn’t blame either of them if they didn’t stay now. He couldn’t even believe he’d said those words.

“All right,” Maeglin said, lowering himself onto the bed, then paused. “But we’re really going to need a shower before we all just congeal together, okay?”

Tyelpe laughed. “I don’t think he’s going to move again any time soon. Help me carry him?”

“Yes,” Maeglin agreed, and both their warm arms scooped Annatar out of the bed. He clung to them, pressing soft kisses to one chest and then the other. Yes. That was right. He was theirs.


End file.
